What doesn't kill us…
by Helen C
Summary: What Trey did is the one thing Ryan will never be able to forgive, the one thing he doesn't want to forgive.
1. Part 1

**Title** : What doesn't kill us…

**Author** : Helen C.

**Rating** : PG-13, I guess.

**Summary** : What Trey did is the one thing Ryan will never be able to forgive, the one thing he doesn't _want_ to forgive.

**Disclaimer** : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN**. Many thanks for joey51 for the beta job.

This one has been sitting on my hard drive for over a year. I've always felt that something was missing. I still do, but I'm done trying to figure out what it is. I'll just post it and move on to better things. Yes.

I hope you will enjoy anyway.

Oh, and I guess I should _**warn**_ : nothing graphic, but disturbing subject anyway.

* * *

**What doesn't kill us…**

Helen C.

Part One

"I'm sorry," Marissa says.

Ryan tenses up involuntarily, as he always does whenever someone apologizes these days.

And everyone apologizes, all the time.

Marissa, because she shot Trey, and lied to Ryan.

Seth, because he's the one who told Ryan.

Summer, because she's the one who told Seth.

Kirsten, because she wasn't there when she should have been.

Sandy, because he brought Trey home in the first place.

Ryan wants to tell them that he's the only one at fault here, wants to be able to convince them that they have nothing to be sorry for.

Marissa saved Ryan's life.

Seth and Summer didn't tell Ryan to go fight with his brother—Ryan made that decision all by himself.

Kirsten needed help, and got it, which is a lot more than Dawn ever did.

At least, he can kind of understand why Sandy keeps apologizing.

In a "don't-be-stupid-Sandy" kind of way.

In a "you-couldn't-have-known-so-stop-it-already" kind of way.

Ryan understands Sandy's need to protect his family, and understands why Sandy would feel like he failed to do that this time.

But in the end, Ryan's the one who screwed up.

Well, he and Trey.

Clearly.

Marissa…

Marissa shouldn't apologize to anyone.

She's the victim here, and she tried to do the best thing she could think of when she fired that gun.

"Don't—" Ryan says, but Marissa is having none of it.

"No, I want to… If I had told you immediately, instead of trying to hide it, perhaps things would have been different."

Except that, if she had talked to Ryan earlier, Ryan would just have gone to "see" Trey earlier.

It was bound to happen eventually, because Ryan and Trey are both alike—they both get angry too easily, and no matter what, sooner or later, for one thing or another, Trey and Ryan were going to settle old scores.

Marissa and the Cohens couldn't have predicted that, couldn't have done anything to stop it, anymore than they could stop Earth from spinning—but Ryan knew. Ryan had always felt that some day, it would come to this.

Ryan and Trey deal with their anger by using their fists.

Always.

Just like…

Well, just like more than a few of Dawn's boyfriends, and that disturbs Ryan more than he's willing to admit.

There always was, and there still is, a lot of anger between them—too many betrayals, too many failures to protect each other, too much resentment, on both sides.

Too many bad memories that they never talked about, either because they couldn't or because they didn't want to, but that are still _here_, that are still making them who they are, no matter how much they try to deny it.

And what Trey did…

What Trey did is the one thing Ryan will never be able to forgive, the one thing he doesn't _want_ to forgive.

He doesn't care about explanations.

He doesn't care how wasted Trey was.

He doesn't care what Trey thought.

Nothing can make this better, not after…

Not after.

And one day, maybe, he'll tell Marissa about _it_—that thing that he doesn't name, ever, and that he rarely thinks about, and that he certainly never puts into words, not even in his mind.

Perhaps Marissa will feel better, knowing that he really understand, beyond words and intellectualisation, with his guts and in his flesh.

And perhaps the two of them will be stronger when he tells her.

One day.

Not today.

He's not ready yet.

"I'm sorry, too," Ryan says. Because he apologizes too, all the time, for all the good that does to anyone.

"It wasn't your fault."

Ryan sighs.

They've had this discussion too many times already.

They're running in circles, repeating apologies and the meaningless, "It's okay," and nothing gets resolved, and Ryan doesn't know what he can do to make that stop.

Or, well, he does know.

He's just not ready to do it yet.

Not ready for Marissa to realize that his reluctance to sleep with her is due to more than his so-called chivalry, not ready for her to realize that he wasn't fighting with Trey solely because of her, not ready for her to become afraid to touch him, as he's afraid to touch her.

Afraid of bringing back painful, dark memories.

One day, he will be ready.

Just not today.

* * *

TBC... 


	2. Part 2

**Title** : What doesn't kill us…

**Author** : Helen C.

**Rating** : PG-13, I guess.

**Summary** : What Trey did is the one thing Ryan will never be able to forgive, the one thing he doesn't _want_ to forgive.

**Disclaimer** : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN.** Many thanks to joey51 for the beta job.

Warning : nothing graphic, but disturbing subject anyway.

* * *

Part Two

School starts again, which at least allows Ryan to think about something other than Trey, Marissa, and the horrible summer they went through.

Seth and Summer, Marissa and Ryan, spend most of their time together outside of classes. At the beginning of the term, there are some whispers whenever they sit down for lunch, and some insistent stares when they pile up in Summer's car at the end of the day, but when none of them reacts to the scrutiny, the rest of the Harbor students find something else to talk about.

Seth and Summer go out sometimes, at Summer's urging. Marissa and Ryan join them a few times, but mostly, they prefer going to a movie or even staying in the pool house.

Ryan knows that the Cohens are concerned about their lack of social life, but he can't bring himself to care about that, can't find it in him to act like he did last year, carefree and happy, as if everything was fine.

The façade has cracked and collapsed and he doesn't want to rebuild it.

Not when the results were so disastrous.

Marissa doesn't seem to regret her former status, and Ryan is more than happy to avoid the crowd.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Three months go by, and Ryan enjoys the quiet during the days.

God knows his nights are less than peaceful.

Ryan has nightmares, almost every night.

He didn't see what happened on the beach between Marissa and Trey, but his mind is more than able to fill in the blanks, and more than willing to remind him of other people, in other places, and of himself, young and scared and bewildered by what was happening, and unable to bring himself to talk about it.

Marissa has nightmares.

Ryan knows, because he overheard Julie talking with Kirsten, and because Marissa, sometimes, calls him when she wakes up in the middle of the night, and listens to his voice as he soothes her back to sleep.

They barely even kiss anymore, but they snuggle a lot.

That's safe.

That's comforting.

That doesn't remind either of them of less-safe encounters.

They sleep together sometimes—just sleep, in Ryan's bed, and with all their clothes on. Marissa asks him, just once, if he doesn't mind being close to her, and not doing anything, and he jokes and says that he may be seventeen, and thus "always ready," he's also a gentleman and he does have some self-control.

She smiles, seemingly reassured, and Ryan pats himself on the back for his answer, but he knows very well that it would have been more honest to reply that he had stuff to deal with too, and that sex was about as far from his mind as it was ever likely to get, considering that he's seventeen.

Of course, an honest answer would have made Marissa wonder, and Ryan can't allow that.

Not now.

He's not ready yet.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After Thanksgiving, two things come shattering the relative peacefulness of his life.

The first thing is a nightmare Marissa has.

She and Ryan fell asleep in front of the TV, in the Cohens' den, and Ryan wakes up to screams.

Marissa is struggling in his arms, but he doesn't dare to let her go, afraid she'll hurt herself, and he doesn't dare to hang on to her too tightly either, afraid she'll mistake him for Trey, so he doesn't do anything until Kirsten rushes into the room, takes Marissa in her arms and starts to comfort her.

Ryan watches on as Marissa clings to Kirsten, wishing Dawn had…

But Dawn didn't, and that's done, in the past, and there's no need to think about that now.

No need to feel hurt again because his own mother didn't care.

Ryan spots Sandy and Seth, both hovering near the entrance of the room.

Sandy smiles and raises a questioning eyebrow to Ryan, who tries to smile back but can't make his lips move the right way.

Seth looks at Marissa, then at Ryan, looking puzzled, looking like he's about to say something but doesn't know what.

Once Marissa starts calming down, Sandy mumbles something about calling Julie, and Seth leaves, and Ryan keeps watching Kirsten and Marissa, wishing he'd had someone, back _then_.

He could have it now, he knows.

When he first arrived here, every time he considered bringing it up, the thought sounded laughable, and Ryan felt fine, then. He had other stuff to deal with, he almost always does, and this particular issue had taken a backseat. Besides, he didn't know the Cohens well enough then. Sure, they seemed nice, but Ryan had met people who seemed nice before.

But that was when he first arrived here.

Two years have gone by; he trusts the Cohens now, and when he thinks about telling them, it doesn't feel like the stupidest idea in the world anymore.

And it's not like there haven't been opportunities in the past to tell them, "This happened to me, and most of the time it's not that bad to deal with, but when it's bad, it's fucking unmanageable, and I don't know what to do, and can you help me?"

And the Cohens probably suspect anyway, or at least, Sandy must, a little, and every time Ryan allows his anger to get the better of him, he wants to tell them that he suspects it all comes mostly from what happened.

He couldn't hit the guy who did that, but he can hit Oliver and Trey and Luke when they're being assholes.

And it doesn't make anything better.

He just has to talk to them, and when he'll be done, Kirsten will hug him, like she's hugging Marissa now, and she won't let go for a long time, and Sandy will pat his back, and perhaps it'll help, in the long run, to have them knowing.

_One day_, he tells himself.

Not today.

He's not ready yet, the words would catch in his throat, and he couldn't face them.

But one day, he'll be ready for that.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The second thing happens just before Chrismukkah.

Dawn calls Ryan.

It's grey outside, and even slightly cold—as cold as it gets in Southern California—and Ryan is curled up in his bed, reading for his English Lit. assignment, feeling as relaxed, as content, as he has since last May.

Then, he picks up the phone, and three seconds later, he's chilled to the bone and he wants to throw up. As Dawn yells at him, her voice makes him wince. He doesn't even understand what she's talking about, the only words that stick with him are, "Just like your fucking brother," and they're still ringing in his mind long after she has hung up, and Ryan just sits there, listening to the dial tone, until the nausea gets too much and he rushes to the bathroom.

Two years without hearing a word from Dawn, two years wondering if she was all right, and all Ryan wants to do, now that he has heard from her, is punch a wall. Or a window. Or someone.

He settles for the wall in the bathroom, and he hurts his hand—not badly but enough so that the Cohens will notice.

Ryan explains it away—unconvincingly, and he can see Sandy and Kirsten holding back their questions, and that's yet another thing making him angry, that they're wary of pushing him, wary of his reactions, wary he'll balk on them if they go too far.

He almost wishes they'd push, but they don't.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan has a nightmare that night. It's different than the ones he had before, and it's even worse, and so much more disturbing.

In his nightmare, Ryan sees himself with Marissa—pinning her to the bed, grabbing her wrists roughly as she twists under him and begs him to stop.

He sees himself, ignoring her pleas, pushing into her, hurting her as she cries, feeling angry, for some reason—he spends so much time feeling angry, and not always for any discernable reason.

He sees himself, looking down at her, horrified, wondering if this is what Trey felt like when he realized what he'd tried to do.

He hears himself, apologizing, again and again, as Marissa cries and curls up on the bed, away from him.

x

Ryan sits up with a strangled "No!" breathing fast, and closes his eyes as light assaults them.

He hears Kirsten's voice, close to his ear, whispering, "It's okay."

Her reassurances make him laugh, because nothing is okay, how could it be, and in his mind, he can still see Marissa, her bruised arms, her pleading eyes.

Can still remember the anger he felt.

He doesn't know how long it takes him to come back to reality, but he knows it's a long time.

Eventually, Ryan realizes that he's chanting, "no, no, no," under his breath and Kirsten is rocking him softly, whispering meaningless words of comfort.

"It's okay," he hears her say again. "It's okay, sweetie, I promise."

Ryan wants to tell her that she doesn't know that, doesn't even know what's wrong with him, and that she shouldn't make promises she won't be able to keep.

"I'm fine. Sorry," he says, pushing away from her.

Kirsten sighs, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. "If that's being fine, I don't want to know what it's like when you're not."

"Sorry," he repeats.

Kirsten frowns at him. "Ryan…"

He cuts her off before she can add anything. "Can you… Please, not tonight."

She keeps frowning, studying him. She finally nods reluctantly. "Fine. But…"

"I'll be fine," Ryan says.

That's not exactly what he wants to tell her—he wants to tell her that he'll confide in her sooner or later, and probably sooner, and that he appreciates her concern, as well as everything else she has done for him.

But if he tells her that, she'll want to know why he can't tell her what's bothering him now, and Ryan will certainly lose it in an even bigger way, and she'll be even more worried, and everything will just be more complicated than it already is.

Later, he thinks.

He'll be ready later.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

For the next two days, all Ryan can think of is Dawn's words.

_Just like your brother._

There's truth in that statement.

Trey tends to resort violence. Trey has a short fuse. Trey doesn't trust people.

Just like Ryan.

And Ryan keeps wondering if it will ever happen to him—if, one day, he'll be pushed far enough, and he'll just give up and become what he always swore he wouldn't be.

Was Trey surprised when he realized what he had tried to do?

Was Trey horrified?

Or was he just worried about Ryan's reaction, worried that Ryan would, well, do exactly what Ryan did?

Did Trey think about Ryan, and himself, and that man? Or did he think that there was no link between these events?

Did he even remember what happened? Or had he forgotten about it?

God knows Ryan himself never thinks much about it—he actually spent years knowing it had happened, but not feeling the weight of it. He had thought, he had hoped, that it meant that he was over it.

Then, Seth's stuttered confession had brought all these memories back to the surface, and Ryan had felt it like a punch to the face.

He doesn't remember exactly what happened, in those few months that jackass spent with the Atwoods. His memories are blurry, they tend to meld into one another, and he just has flashes—flashes that are so much more than enough.

Ryan still can't understand how Trey could do that.

Still can't understand how Trey could even consider forcing another human being to live with that.

Not after what happened.

* * *

TBC 


	3. Part 3

**Title** : What doesn't kill us…

**Author** : Helen C.

**Rating** : PG-13, I guess.

**Summary** : What Trey did is the one thing Ryan will never be able to forgive, the one thing he doesn't _want_ to forgive.

**Disclaimer** : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN.** Many thanks to joey51 for the beta job.

Warning : nothing graphic, but disturbing subject anyway.

* * *

Part Three

Ryan tells Marissa everything on New Year's Eve.

The Cohens have gone out, Seth and Summer are in Seth's room, and Ryan and Marissa are watching a movie in the den.

"Could we be more boring?" Summer asked when she arrived.

"Probably not," Ryan replied, shrugging.

He doesn't care about stuff like that anymore.

What he cares about is Marissa, falling asleep, her head on his shoulder, and waking up with a gasp half an hour later.

"You okay?" Ryan asks.

She nods, smiling weakly. "This is so stupid," she sighs. "It's been months… I'm sorry."

Ryan doesn't mean to snap at her, but he does. "Stop it!"

He can still hear Dawn.

_Just like your brother._

Trey never talked about _it_.

The one time Ryan tried to broach the subject, Trey yelled that nothing had happened, that Ryan was a fucking punk, and that if he ever said anything about it ever again, Trey would kill him.

Ryan never mentioned it again.

In time, he almost managed to forget about it.

Ryan doesn't want to be just like his brother.

He wants to help people, not hurt them.

There's something he can do for Marissa, right now—he can show Marissa that she can survive and get better, as Ryan did, and will again.

That's something Trey didn't do for Ryan—perhaps because he couldn't, perhaps because it would have been difficult, and Trey has never been one to take on a challenge.

That's something that might make this entire experience a little less hard to live with—because if he can make Marissa understand that he knows how she feels, maybe it will all have been for something.

If something useful can come out of this… then, Ryan has to try.

"Stop apologizing," he adds, more softly.

She looks at him, her eyes wide. "I'm…" She starts to get up and he catches her wrist.

"We need to talk," Ryan says, and he could kick himself when he sees Marissa pale. "Not… I just have stuff that I need to tell you," he adds.

She nods hesitantly, and he gets to his feet. "Let's go to the pool house." He doesn't really want to have this discussion in his room, but he doesn't want to take the risk of being interrupted by Summer or Seth either.

A small part of himself, the one that's terminally unsure about everything, the one that wants to keep his past protected at all costs, objects softly.

_She'll never speak to you again._

_She'll be disgusted._

_She'll pity you._

_She'll tell others, and everyone will know._

Ryan feels his heartbeat speed up, but he won't stop, not this time.

He has waited long enough; they need to move on now, they need to find a way to function again after what happened, and clearly, ignoring matters is not working.

He gets up and makes his way to the pool house, still holding Marissa's wrist, and she follows him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They enter and sit side by side on the bed, not touching, and keep silent for a long while, as Ryan tries to gather his thoughts.

"What are we doing here?" Marissa asks at last.

Ryan's heart is beating even faster than it was before, he's cold and sweaty, and he has to fight not to run from the room.

"There are things I need to tell you," he says. Every word is a struggle, making him wonder if he'll be able to tell her everything, or anything at all, really.

"Okay."

She waits, and Ryan realizes that somewhere along the line, Marissa grew more patient, and more able to listen.

"I didn't want Trey here because I thought he was going to try and take advantage of the Cohens," Ryan says. "I though he'd try to steal from people around here. I thought he'd try to steal from the Cohens. I though he'd bully me into doing something stupid. But I never, ever thought that he'd try to…" He swallows painfully. "I never thought he'd tried to rape you, or anyone else. I never…"

He trails off and puts his face in his hands, out of breath.

He needs her to understand this so badly—that he never meant for her to be put into this situation, that he never thought Trey would do that.

If he can't even get that much out, what will happen when he goes on?

After a while, he feels Marissa's hand on his hair. "Ryan?"

His hands still covering his face, he adds, "The reason I never thought Trey would do that, is that… Life at home wasn't… He…" Ryan takes a deep breath then, tries to gather enough courage to finish what he has started. "He knew, he knows what it's like. To go through something like that."

Marissa's hand goes from his hair to his neck, making him shiver.

"We both know what it's like," he adds.

He hasn't looked at Marissa yet, doesn't think he'll ever be able to do so again, and she comes closer to him, leans her head on his shoulder.

"Ryan…"

"I wanted you to know that," he says. "Because… Because."

When she speaks again, her voice is hoarse. "How did you ever manage to move past that?"

That wasn't the question he expected, and he almost blurts out, _What makes you think I did?_

"Sometimes, I can still… feel his hands," Marissa says, almost in a whisper.

Ryan remembers that—remembers how, in the first few weeks _after_ he kept showering all the time, trying to get rid of that feeling. How, after a while, the feeling started to wane—except in his nightmares. How, after he learned what Trey had done to Marissa, he started showering all the time again. How, this time, it's not getting better.

"I still do sometimes," Ryan admit. "Almost never, but sometimes, when something happens."

Something like his brother trying to rape his girlfriend.

Something like a man in the street looking too much like the asshole who…

Well.

"It does get better," Ryan adds, because the whole point of this exercise was to let Marissa knows that it won't always be that way, that eventually, better days will come.

"Yeah?"

Ryan smiles sadly. "Yes. Trust me."

He tilts his head to the side as she whispers, "I do."

He thinks she's crying, but his own vision is so blurry that it's hard to tell.

They hold on to each other for a long while, soaking in each other's warmth.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Two hours later, they are lying on the bed in each other's arms, watching the countdown.

"Do you think we'll get better?" Marissa asks.

Ryan thinks about the nightmare in which he saw himself raping Marissa.

He thinks about _Just like your brother._

He thinks about Trey, clinging so hard to the notion that nothing had happened.

He thinks about the fact that he can actually consider telling the Cohens without breaking out in a cold sweat.

He thinks about the fact that he did just tell Marissa—which, a few months ago, would have been unconceivable.

"Yeah," he says.

Marissa nods, her hand coming to rest on his chest.

"Thirty seconds until this year is over," she says.

"Thank Jesus and Moses."

She giggles.

"Here's to hoping this year will be better," she says, leaning down to kiss him.

When they break apart, there are fireworks on the TV screen.

"Here's to hoping," Ryan says, softly.

* * *

end 


End file.
